Let it ride
by SlayerFest5
Summary: After being brought back from Heaven, Buffy fakes her death to get away from SunnyHell. That is until Spike tracks her down. How far behind is everyone else? Goes WAY off canon in season 6. DARK.
1. Chapter 1

Buffy mindlessly stared in front of her, pressing buttons to calculate the total for the order. It was late, almost closing time. The guy in front of her, wearing a dark blue T-shirt and jeans that looked like they'd been washed way too many times, shuffled, obviously annoyed at the amount of time she was taking. Buffy looked up at him when she heard his stomach rumble loudly. He had light brown hair and had been balding for a while now judging by the shiny area on top of his head. He was large in size which explained his rather large order. Fat man shot her a death glare, so she continued punching the items in. She could break him in half and he didn't even know. If she wanted, to right now she could reach of the counter and snap his neck so fast that-

"Your total is $17.37. Thanks for choosing the Doublemeat Palace."

His grubby paw reached towards her and she took the bill he handed her. She purposely counted the change slowly, sure to get every cent correct. Also to piss him off.

Fat man snatched his hand away as soon as the change hit it. His order was placed next to Buffy, who handed it to him with a sickeningly sweet smile. He grumbled a sarcastic 'thank you' and walked away.

She took off her hat and ran her hand through her blonde hair, sighing. She didn't know how much more of the 9 to 5 thing she could take. Or how much slaying she could take. Or living at all. Sometimes she just wished-

"Buffy, you're off. See ya tomorrow."

Sometimes she wished there was no more tomorrows.

***

She slayed cause she had to. It was her place in the world. Although, her place in the world had come and gone, she was supposed to be finished. Every night the same thoughts rotated in her head. Every night, punch, dodge, roundhouse, stake in heart. Over and over again. All the while, she wasn't really there. She was never really there. Part of her remained dead. She wondered if it'd be better if she could be away from this place.

The Hellmouth. There was always more evil coming, drawn to it's energy. Maybe if she got away from it, she could have a bit more peace. Maybe it would be like it had been when she was dead.

Every night she slayed, and every night she prayed for a way out. She prayed for an end.

***

Spike took a drag of his cigarette as he watched her. He watched her every night. As she walked slowly from her place of employment to the cemetery. As she slayed vampires and demons alike. As she wandered about aimlessly for a good amount of time, before she called it a night and walked to her home, where the two witched and her sister waited for her.

He wondered what she would think about every night. Just a glance at her face, even from such a far distance, and the obviousness of her deep thoughts were written all over her face. What was she thinking? Was she reliving the hell she had been trapped in for those few months? Or was it something different?

Spike crushed the cigarette under his boot and began to follow her as she started heading out of the cemetery. If only he could get inside that head of hers and know what she was thinking. As much as he hated to admit it, he was worried about the slayer. But he knew that telling her friends of his worries would do no good. Even if they listened to him, by some great miracle, their interference might destroy her. No, it was up to him to figure it out, and her emotional distance made the task seem impossible.

Slowly he followed her until he was sure she was safely into her home, and re-disappeared into the night without a sound.

***

"Hi Buffy!" Willow said chirpily the second the blonde closed the front door behind her. "How was work? Slaying?"

Buffy shrugged off her jacket and hung it on the coat rack. "Fine."

Willow furrowed her brow a bit, either unconvinced or unsatisfied with her answer. "Well, you hungry? Tara made lasagna, there's still some left."

"I think I'm going to try to wash this smell off and go to bed." Buffy responded before starting up the stairs.

The red-headed witch turned and watched her leave. "Buffy?"

She stopped her incline and turned around.

"You can talk to me about anything." Willow tentatively said.

Buffy nodded.

***

[I] She sounds like my mother.[/I] Buffy thought as she rinsed the remaining shampoo out of her hair. The smell of the Doublemeat medley didn't want to leave her. She had only been working there for 2 months, but it had felt like years. [I] Maybe this is what hell is like... Not like I know though. [/I]

Bitterness washed over her as she twisted the knob to shut the water to her shower off. Why did they bring her back to this? Even if she had been in hell, it couldn't be worse than the hell she lived in now. Why couldn't they see that?

What upset her most, was she wasn't needed. They KNEW she wasn't needed. They were fine without her. She had saw it for herself, so why couldn't they? It didn't make sense to her, and she guessed that it never would.

Here she stood. She worked to bring money to the household. Why couldn't Willow or Tara get a job? No, the pressure landed solely on her. While she was gone, her friends picked up the slaying. Now, she slayed by herself night after night.

They couldn't be bothered to help with the bills, couldn't bother to help her physically. SHE was the slayer after all. The fact that she wasn't supposed to be alive made no difference to those around her.

They brought her back because taking over was too much for them. They were selfish. She couldn't even fathom the idea of calling them 'friends'. Any of them. She stared in the mirror.

Buffy balled her hand up, pulled her arm back, and smashed her fist into her reflection.


	2. Chapter 2

The alarm clock shrilled fiercely. God how she hated the thing. She longed for the days when her mom would wake her up quietly, the calmness starting her day off right. This clock was wrong. It ruined her days by waking her up so abruptly every morning.

"Buffy!" her fake sister screamed from the hallway.

[I] Here we go again. [/I]

*~*~*

Why was she here? Her feet had automatically taken to the cemetery, like it was some sort or sign she was meant to be here. She wondered how the fates meant… was she meant to slay? Or was she meant to be dead?

The slayer became lost in thought as her feet continued to carry her.

She was still dead. She walked and talked… but she was dead.

Buffy was like a vampire. Her heart beat, her blood flowed, her lungs required breath… well, maybe she wasn't like a vampire. She was like a zombie.

Her musings were stopped. She had wandered into the woods, and there it was. Her empty grave. The hole she crawled out of wasn't as noticeable as it was the night she crawled out, but it was clearly there. She guessed that nobody remembered to go back and fill it in. Maybe she could crawl back in…

Her skin crawled, the hair on the back of her neck rising. She could feel him. [I] Spike… [/I]

She spun around on her heel. The sun was out. It was painfully bright. There was no way he was near her.

[I] So what WAS that? [/I]

*~*~*

[I] "Buffy?" he whispered, unmoving.

The body didn't respond.

He trembled, his voice cracking as he hopeless tried again, "B-Buffy?'

No movement.

His head pounded, and with a startling realization, he realized that the pounding in his head was his own fear, and not her heart beating.

He fell to the ground and sobbed. Then, barely noticeable, a quiet groan.

Eyes wide, he crawled to her. She was laying on her side, her back to him.

He reached a hand out to touch her. It seemed to take forever before his hand reach the exposed skin of her arm.

Cold.

Closing his eyes hard, he rolled her over.

Her green eyes were glassy and open, face pale. She was dead.

The quiet groan echoed in the blackened room.[/I]

*~*~*

He awoke with a jolt, instantly sitting up in bed.

[I] Buffy… [/I]

She was standing in front of his bed, staring at him with a face completely blank of any emotion.

"Not that I don' love seeing you, pet, but what brings you here?"

Buffy blinked. She wasn't entirely sure why she was here. Investigating perhaps, but it was almost as her feet carried her here as well. She wasn't wearing a watch, but she was sure it was way past when she said she'd be at the Magic Box to see the gang.

"I… I don't know."

Spike didn't know what to make of it. Then she calmly just sat down on the bed, hands between her knees, staring at the wall. He sure as hell didn't know what to make of that.

"Buffy, luv, what's wrong?" The bleached vampire cautiously placed a hand on her back in a comforting gesture, much like he did the night he found her on the back steps of her home crying.

"Everything."

It was the quietest of whispers, but she knew he would hear it. Spike moved to turn her to him, to cup her face softly and turn her face so her could see what secrets her eyes held. He was going to pull her to him, engulf her in a hug and let her pull comfort from his embrace.

They both heard the door upstairs rattle as it was roughed jerked open. Footsteps piled into the crypt, along with voices of the Scoobies.

Buffy turned to look at him. Her eyes begged for him to help her, save her, somehow. She looked so sad, so broken.

"SPIKE!" Xander yelled.

Buffy stood up slowly, and went to the ladder. Sparing him once last glance full of need and desperation, she climbed up.

*~*~*

Xander sighed deeply. "What's wrong with her? Could something have gone wrong in the spell?"

Willow shook her head fiercely. "No! Of course not. She just has to… adjust."

"It's been weeks, she should have adjusted by now. We should kill her." Anya commented bluntly, as usual.

Silence engulfed the room, everyone refusing to speak. Mainly because nobody had an urge to argue about it. They knew it wasn't going to happen, regardless of whether they thought they should do it. So with that thought in their heads, they split up, each going their separate ways in the Magic Box.

Willow entered the back room where Buffy was training. She watched as she hit the punching bag hard, the chain holding it in place fiercely rattling. Her mental condition aside, Buffy had come back as strong as ever, maybe stronger. Her physical fitness was incredible.

[I] Maybe the spell increased her physical side when we brought her back, and that removed some from the mental side… [/I]

"Hey."

The red head jumped, startled. Buffy was standing directly in front of her, chugging from a bottle of spring water. She looked so… normal. Like she used to be. Minus the deadness of her eyes, she functioned without flaw.

"Hi Buffy, how ya doing?"

Buffy twisted the cap back onto the water bottle and shrugged. "Alright."

Willow nodded, glancing around anxiously and bouncing on her heels. She wanted something, Buffy could tell. Probably reassurance that she was alright. Might as well satisfy her, maybe she'd leave her alone.

"Willow… I'm fine, ok? Really. Everyone keep wondering why I'm not in such a great mood, but hello- I was dead for months. What do you expect?"

Willow hugged her friend tightly and nodded against her shoulder. "I just worry about you, Buffy."

Buffy resisted the urge to hurl. "I know… I know."

*~*~*

The showers were one of her favorite parts of life. The water was so soothing and loud. She couldn't hear anyone calling to her, at her, only the sound of water harshly hitting the tiles of the bathtub floor. She wished she could stay in the shower for longer, but water cost money, and she had to pay for 4 peoples water supply, not just her own.

But wouldn't it be nice…

She wished she was alone, supporting herself, letting herself have small luxuries that she couldn't afford cause of Dawn and her two friends. She loved Dawn dearly… but lately, Dawn seemed to hate her. Hate her for her absence while dead, and her mental absence now that she was alive. But Buffy knew that she couldn't possibly begin to understand how she felt. It wasn't Dawnies' fault.

But that didn't mean Buffy was ok with the teenagers hate.

She was sick of it all. It was funny how things were so different now. The people she loved, she couldn't stand to be around. The only person she could fathom the idea of being near was Spike. He didn't seem to be scrambling to be near her though. It hurt her more than she liked to admit.

Stepping out of the shower she started to towel off. She glanced up at the new mirror that hung now. Buffy had thought that after breaking the mirror a week ago, her friends would have asked her questions, but none came. Buffy bought a new mirror, and nobody seemed to notice.

She wiped the steam away. She tilted her head to the side, studying her reflection. Steam fogged the mirror again quickly, and she wiped it away just as fast as it had showed up. She finished drying, and took a last lance in the mirror.

Buffy had an idea.


End file.
